Five Victims
by Icingdeath777
Summary: This is my first story to be posted on this site. Rated M for mucho blood content. I hate summarizing stuff... sooo... I'll just say this: It's kill time at Nny's place, and five have gotta go.


**5 Victims**

Author's note: Hello everyone. This is the first of many stories to be placed on this site. A nice and violent one for you. Please excuse if it's fairly strange or gory, because as I mentioned on my profile thing, I'm insane. Flames welcome, cause I care not of what anyone thinks. So here it is…

Johnny entered the sixth floor of his basement. Two of them were there. One, a male, was strapped onto the table. The other, a woman, was bound to the wall.

"Please," the man pleaded, "please. You don't have to do this."

Johnny scoffed, but said nothing. He passed the table and stepped up to another against the far wall, this one, along with the wall, was loaded with various knives and other weapons and small, hand-held torture devices. He made his selection: a hunting knife. He knew not of it's origins; all that he knew was that he had it.

He turned and slunk back to the table the man was on. The man was shirtless, and was fairly muscular and lean. Johnny lightly ran the blade along the man's arm, not cutting him… yet.

"No, no!" the man said, raising his voice. "Please, no! I didn't mean anything by what I said. I didn't!"

"Didn't mean anything." Johnny mumbled. "You Didn't. Mean. Anything." he repeated, pausing in between his words.

"I swear, I didn't!"

"Hm. Well… maybe you didn't mean anything." Johnny said, lowering his knife. The man gave a small, hopeful smile. "But," he said, "I took it that way." He raised his blade again; the man's smile quickly disappeared.

Johnny slowly cut the man, dragging his blade along his arm fairly deeply. Deep enough to leave a scar if this man lived through this. The man winced, moaned, and grunted, his face expressing pain.

"'Look at that skinny faggot.'" Johnny quoted. "Heh. Hey, why does everyone think I'm a fag?" He dug the blade deeper. The man continued to writhe.

"Please…" the man choked out.

"Do I really appear that way?" Johnny continued. "I mean, be honest, do I appear that way?"

"No!" the man cried. "No, you don't!"

"Then why did you call me such a thing?" he jammed the knife even deeper.

"I don't know! I don't know! God, PLEASE get that knife out of my arm!"

"Oh, you don't know?" Johnny questioned tauntingly. "You don't know, huh?" He scoffed. "People like you sicken me. You taunt others, try to anger them, just to look tough in front of their buddies, or in your case, their girlfriends," he nodded toward the woman on the wall, "not thinking about the possible consequences." he continued burying the blade in the man's flesh.

"I'M SORRY!" the man cried out. "I'M SO SORRY I WRONGED YOU!"

The woman on the wall was crying. "Please stop! Leave him alone!" she wailed.

"Now you're sorry!" Johnny yelled. He pulled the knife from the mans arm, a gaping, blood-gushing wound left behind. "Liar! You're not sorry for what you did! You're sorry because I didn't let you get away with it!"

With that, he lifted the blade to the man's throat and sliced. He choked and gurgled as he bled out. The woman on the wall screamed and cried his name. Johnny turned to her.

"Your turn!" he called.

"N-no! Stay away!" she screamed. "Stay away from me! I don't even know you! I-"

"SHUT UP!" Johnny boomed. She was automatically silenced. "Shut the hell up, you idiotic slut. You know, being his groupie has got you in a fuck-load of trouble." he pointed the knife at the now dead body on the table. "Heh. Yeah, you fucked up BIG." he emphasized the word.

"Please, just stay away!" she cried.

"'Skinny fag.'" Johnny quoted again. "And you just LAUGHED and LAUGHED. Ha, Ha! REAL funny!" Johnny lifted the blade and pointed it at her stomach. "Tell me, was it worth getting you into this situation?"

"Please!" she breathed. "I'll do anything! You name it, ANYTHING!"

"Anything, huh? Well, I REALLY need about 300 bucks right now."

"I'll get it for you!"

"HA! No you won't! Where are you gonna get 300 male deer?" He cackled at his joke and then plunged the knife into her belly. She gasped and them screamed at the top of her lungs. Johnny sliced across her stomach, ripping her open. He then pulled the knife out and tossed it aside. He reached his glove-covered hands inside her and proceeded to… well, gut her. He yanked out her intestines and other organs, throwing them over his shoulder and to the side as he went.. She screamed and screamed, and then finally died.

Johnny pulled his hands out and shook them off, flicking blood everywhere. He cleared his throat. He looked around. There was blood and organs everywhere.

"Well look at the mess you two made." he said, placing his hands on his hips. He shrugged and turned to continue to the next room.

There was one person in this one; a female. She was in a straight jacket, her legs bound together. As soon as he entered the room, she scooted and inched into the corner.

"Please let me go!" she wailed.

"Aww, now why would I do that?" Johnny said. He approached her slowly.

"No! Stay away!" she said, thrashing her legs around.

"Hey, hey. I was just kidding." Johnny said softly. "Stop thrashing. It's alright. I'm gonna get you out of here."

"Y-you are?"

"Yeah! Come on." he said. He helped her up. They started walking.

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, clearly paying no mind to the fact that Johnny was covered in blood. "I… I just woke up here and… and why aren't we headed for the exit?" she asked, noticing that they passed the door with the glowing exit sign over it (Johnny placed it there to taunt his victims.).

"Well, I said I'd get you out of here." Johnny said. "And the only way out of here for you is DEATH!" he turned and headed for a bathtub in the corner. She stopped moving and struggled to free herself from Johnny's grip, but to no avail. She screamed and flopped down in an attempt to stop him from dragging her. He grabbed her by her hair and continued pulling her toward the tub. Once there, he yanked her up onto her knees in front of the tub, which she now noticed was full. He shoved her head into the water and held her under. She screamed, her voice muffled in the water. He suddenly pulled her out, but kept a firm grip on her head.

"You and your friends! Laugh at me?" he yelled, then shoved her head back under. He tugged on her hair and yanked her out again. "Laugh at me, will you?!"

She gasped for air. "I'm sorry! I'm so-" he shoved her back under before she could finish.

"I'm sick of hearing those two words!"

He held a strong grip on her and kept her under. She screamed and thrashed and jerked around, desperately trying to save herself from the watery demise.

After a minute of two, she suddenly stopped moving and went limp. He pressed two fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing. He dropped her. She slid out of the tub and fell to the floor, her head hitting the ground, her sopping hair making a wet smacking sound on contact with the floor.

"Got you out, didn't I?" he said. He semi-rinsed his gloves in the tub water and then pressed on.

He descended into the next floor and entered the first room. There was a man in this one; his hands were bound together, as were his feet. He flopped around helplessly.

"And now you." Johnny said.

The man shook his head furiously. "No. No, not me!"

"Yes, you." Johnny said dully.

"Just leave me alone! Let me go! I've got a girlfriend! A kid on the way! I-"

"Oh, BOO HOO!" Johnny interrupted. "I got my girlfriend pregnant! That makes me SOOO special and deserving of mercy!" he mocked.

"Well, what will they do without me? They NEED me!"

"HA! Yeah, I'm sure you care a whole lot about what happens to them!"

"I do!"

"Oh, well, if you do, who was that lady you walked out of the bar with last night?"

The man got an "Oh shit" look. "Uh… well, I…"

"And she was all over you, too." Johnny continued. "So don't tell me it was your sister."

"W-well, how do you know that she wasn't my girlfriend? Huh?" the man shot.

"I've seen you and your girlfriend around that area before, and trust me, that chick wasn't her."

The man blathered and stumbled over his words, searching for a defensive comeback, but found none, so he gave up. "Ok." he said finally. "So I haven't been completely faithful to her. So what?" he scoffed. "Lighten up."

Johnny's eye twitched. "What is it with you and that phrase? 'Lighten up.'" he mimicked the man. "Isn't that exactly what you said to me last night, right before you shoved me into the mud?" the man, wide-eyed, stayed silent. "Yeah, you pushed me from behind, I turned and confronted you, and then you pushed me again. 'Lighten up,' you said as I fell down. Then I jumped up, stabbed and killed that bitch you were with, knocked you out, and here we are. Heh. Lighten up." Johnny smirked. "Lighten up, you say?"

He turned and grabbed a crowbar that had been leaning against the wall.

"Oh, no. no, no, no, no." the man murmured at the sight of Johnny approaching him with the crowbar, an evil grin on his face.

"Wanna see what I look like when I lighten up?" Johnny asked, and then giggled, and then full on maniacally laughed.

He reached the man.

"This is me lightening up."

With that, Johnny swung the crowbar at the man, hard, striking him across the face. He yelped and fell backward, spitting blood as he went.

Johnny struck again, this time slamming the crowbar into the man's chest. The man grunted loudly in pain on contact.

"So, tell me. Which hurts more? A…" he swung and hit the man's side. "…or B?" he hit the man's other side. "Forehand…" he struck the man forehanded with the crowbar. "…or backhand?" he struck him backhanded in the jaw.

The beating continued for a few more minutes with mostly body shots, grunts, cries, and moans escaping the man and filling the room with each blow. Johnny struck him on the face again. The man rolled over onto his stomach, attempting to army crawl away. Johnny cackled and brought the crowbar down into the man's back as hard as he could. There was a loud CRACK!. The man gasped, yet surprisingly, nothing else escaped him.

"I th-think… I think you… ju-hust b-broke my… my b-back." the man whispered.

Johnny stood over him. "Lightened up enough for you? No? Well then…" he raise the crowbar over his head. "…This ought to do the trick!"

He brought it down into the back of the man's skull. Then he did it again. And Again. And again and repeated the process until he was hitting the concrete floor through the man's head. He finally stopped, his crowbar, as well as himself, covered in blood and bits of brain matter.

"Thanks for the advice, man." he said to the man's dead body, panting. He dropped the crowbar. "I feel a lot better."

He returned upstairs and changed into some new clothes. He flopped down on the couch.

"Another day." he said and sighed. As always, his good mood had vanished. Just as he thought he'd escaped the horrible void of depression, grief, and everything else that fits in that category, he fell right back into it. He felt so lonely, so distressed, so… bad.

He pulled out his Die-ary and flipped through it. He read the latest entry.

_ Dear Die-ary,_

_ I'm going to kill five of them today. Today feels like a five kind of day. I don't know why; it just does. _

_ So five it is, then. Five of them will be dead by the time the sun sets today. Count on that._

_ J.C._

He scoffed. He seriously didn't remember writing that.

"Five." he whispered. He thought about how many he ended today. He gasped. "I only killed four!"

He looked out the window. The sun had already set.

_ Another dream broken._ he thought. Sure, it wasn't really a dream of his, but it was a goal he'd set, and he felt he couldn't even fulfill that.

"Hey," he said, the light bulb in his head switching on. "what if I can fulfill it?"

He looked around. His eyes landed on his handgun in the case with the sticker on the glass that says BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF OVERWHELMING DESPAIR (he'd replaced the glass from the last time he felt suicidal.). He got up and went over to it.

He carefully opened the case and grasped the gun.

"Ok." he said. "No one'll miss me anyway."

He cocked the gun and lifted it to his head.

"I'll be number five."

AU: So, first story's complete. What'd you think? I think the ending sucks but it's the best I could come up with. It's up to the reader. Did he do it? Or did he not?

By the way, a cookie to the first who gets the crowbar reference.

Forgot to put a disclaimer thingy in the beginning, so here it is, I OWN NOTHING. Are ya happy now?

Until next time, friends.

Icingdeath777 out.


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